


Medium Mocha, No Whip

by imafriendlydalek



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternative Perspective, Artist Steve Rogers, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, M/M, Meet-Cute, POV Alternating, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 06:39:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8276315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imafriendlydalek/pseuds/imafriendlydalek
Summary: Two people meet in a coffee shop.
A meet-cute told four ways.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't decide whose perspective to tell this story from, so this happened.   
> Many, many thanks go to fitz_y for most excellent beta-reading and general awesomeness.

Steve clutched his art portfolio more tightly under his arm as he pulled open the heavy door of Jolt Coffee. He didn’t often buy coffee – at their apartment he and Bucky had a perfectly adequate coffee maker that didn’t charge them an arm and a leg for a cup – but today was turning out to be a particularly crummy day, and he was going to need something more to get through the day. Plus it had just started raining as he and Bucky had gotten off the bus, and the warm coffee shop was just as good a place as any to wait out the downpour. 

He wondered if he had enough for a mocha, his favorite guilty pleasure, as he studied the menu on the wall behind the register. Maybe this day would at least allow him that.

As he counted the change in his wallet, he heard the guys ahead of him ordering and glanced up when one of them ordered a medium mocha, no whipped cream. Exactly the drink he wanted.

“Sure thing,” the barista said. “What’s your name?”

“Tony,” the guy said and flashed a grin. He was probably one of those Wall Street types, Steve guessed, based on the expensive suit and flashy watch, although the sneakers and goatee didn’t quite fit the mold. There was something familiar about the guy, Steve thought, but he couldn’t place it.

Tony paid for his drink and his friend’s and the two of them moved along the bar to where the finished drinks were handed out.

“And for you?” the barista asked, interrupting Steve’s observation.

“Uh, yeah. I’ll have the same thing, actually.”

“Medium mocha, no whip?”

“Yes. Please.” Steve paid for his drink and provided his name when prompted, then gathered up his bulky portfolio to go collect his drink.

Tony and his friend were engaged in a heated discussion, Steve determined when he got to where they were waiting for their drinks, about the superiority of one German car manufacturer over the other.

“Look, I’m just saying–” Tony started.

“Latte macchiato for Jim,” the barista called out.

“Thanks,” Jim said as he accepted the drink.

“–that the Audi is the far superior car,” Tony continued, undeterred by the interruption.

“And two medium mochas, no whip. One for Tony and one for Steve.”

Steve propped his portfolio against a pillar and stepped forward to take his drink at the same time as Tony. He reached for the closest cup, though when he turned it to check the label he saw that it read TONI.

“Uh,” Steve started rather ineloquently, caught off-guard when Tony’s gaze fell on him. It was like the man’s full attention settled on him, and Steve felt his breath catch. Something about him radiated confidence and intelligence, and Steve found himself drawn to it. “Do you want the one for Toni or for Steve?” 

A broad grin spread over Tony’s face. Behind him, Jim was cackling. 

“I would very much like Toni-with-an-i, thank you, _Steve-not-with-an-i_ ,” Tony replied, emphasizing the name as he passed the other cup to Steve. He nodded towards the counter when Steve tried to hand him the cup that read TONI. “You can just put that there, thanks.”

“He has a thing about being handed things,” Jim explained, the eyeroll audible in his tone.

“It’s a valid concern,” Tony said casually, swiping his cup from the counter. He eyed Steve with a grin. “Wouldn’t mind if you handed me your number, though, _Steve-not-with-an-i_.”

Steve felt his heart flutter – not an unusual occurrence, though, with his condition. He returned the gaze, and the grin. “Think I might have some paper. Though I hope you aren’t going to say my name that way every time you say it.”

Tony shrugged and winked lasciviously. “Well, that very much depends on the context ...”

***

Tony needed coffee. 

This was a fairly standard state of being, but today was different. He and Rhodey had been stuck in a meeting with the most boring generals in the Armed Forces all morning, and as if that weren’t bad enough, Rhodey had just informed him that he was thinking of going to the Dark Side and buying a BMW. This called for more than just the blessed nectar of the gods that was caffeine. No, this called for the divine combination of coffee and chocolate. Yeah, Tony had a sweet tooth, one that he was pretty good about keeping in check most days, but sometimes you just had to bend the rules. He could allow himself that simple pleasure on occasion. As long as Pepper didn’t find out.

Rhodey was going on about some totally boring, run-of-the-mill feature on the latest M-whatever when the little bell over the door to Jolt Coffee chimed and two guys stumbled in. Literally stumbled, in the case of the one who came in first. He was tiny, maybe 5’4” if he stood up really straight, there was no way he weighed more than 100 pounds, his blond hair was disheveled from the rain and hung in his eyes, and he carried an artist’s portfolio about three times his size.

He was adorable. Tony was intrigued.

Rhodey was still prattling on about horsepower, and Tony indulged him while they ordered, even if his gaze was more on the tiny blond, now behind them in line and carefully counting his change.

“Four hundred and forty horsepower, Tony. _Four hundred and forty_ ,” Rhodey whined as they moved to collect their drinks.

“Horsepower’s all fine and dandy, but it doesn’t get you off the starting line any faster,” Tony retorted with a shake of his head.

“Well, I’m not going to be racing it or anything,” Rhodey shot back.

“Then you might as well get a Volvo.”

The tiny blond had gathered up his gigantic portfolio, hugging it tightly to his chest as he made his way to where Tony and Rhodey stood.

“Look, I’m just saying that the Audi is the far superior car,” Tony continued. 

The barista called out Rhodey’s drink – like his choice in car, a boring, uninspired beverage – which Rhodey took while rolling his eyes at Tony.

“And two medium mochas, no whip,” the barista announced before Rhodey could make a snide reply about Tony being biased like Tony knew he was about to. “One for Tony and one for Steve.”

Tony smiled. At least _someone_ around here had good taste in sugary coffee drinks.

The tiny guy – Steve, apparently – reached out to take one of the cups, then stopped. Tony turned his full attention to Steve, taking a moment to sweep his gaze over his very, very small frame. He looked like a strong gust of wind might knock him over, but there was an undeniable sexiness to him. 

“Uh, do you want the one for Tony or for Steve?” Steve was pointing at the cups, both with the same drink in them, one labeled STEVE and one TONI.

Tony pulled out his best Tony Stark(™) grin. He could hear Rhodey, that bastard, cracking up behind him.

“I would very much like Toni-with-an-i, thank you, _Steve-not-with-an-i_ ,” Tony replied. He drawled the name, trying out how it felt on his tongue. While Tony was apparently too tough to spell properly, there really wasn’t much room for mangling a name like Steve. Tony was about to make a comment about it when Steve tried to hand him the cup. “You can just put that there, thanks.”

“He has a thing about being handed things,” Rhodey butted in.

“It’s a valid concern,” Tony said, brushing off Rhodey’s remark casually as he took his cup from the counter. He let his eyes rake over Steve. Yep, undeniably sexy. “Wouldn’t mind if you handed me your number, though, _Steve-not-with-an-i_.”

Steve met his gaze and grinned, mischief in his eyes. His very, very blue eyes. “Think I might have some paper. Though I hope you aren’t going to emphasize my name that way every time you say it.”

That was it, it was decided – Tony liked the guy and was going to do his damn best to take him home. He shrugged and gave him a flirty wink. “Well, that very much depends on the context ...”

***

Sometimes Rhodey asked himself why he put up with Tony. The man was frustratingly staunch in his opinions, had a way of acting as if he owned the place (which, let’s face it, was often the case), and Rhodey often felt like he should have Tony on a leash or something to keep him on task.

Like today, when Tony’s attention abandoned their conversation as soon as a guy who caught his eye walked into the coffeeshop. Which is why Rhodey switched gears to a topic that he knew would grate Tony enough to keep his attention at least a little.

“I’m thinking of getting the new M4.”

The look of betrayal and horror on Tony’s face was priceless.

“What, why would you do that?!”

“I’d like a latte macchiato, please. Medium,” Rhodey told the barista. Then he turned back to Tony. “The convertible looks really sweet.”

“It looks _sweet_?! Really, Rhodes? Hi, medium mocha, no whipped cream. Why would you want a BMW when you could have an Audi?!”

“Four hundred and forty horsepower, Tony. _Four hundred and forty_ ,” Rhodey asserted, moving down along the counter to where they could collect their drinks.

“Horsepower’s all fine and dandy, but it doesn’t get you off the starting line any faster.” Tony shook his head in disbelief.

“Well I’m not going to be racing it or anything.”

“Then you might as well get a Volvo,” Tony countered with a toothy smile. Judgy bastard.

“Look, I’m just saying that the Audi is the far superior car,” Tony continued. 

The barista called out Rhodey’s drink, which he collected. Rhodey was just about to note Tony’s obvious bias when the barista announced “And two medium mochas, no whip. One for Tony and one for Steve.”

The tiny guy – Steve, apparently – reached out to take one of the cups, then stopped. Rhodey hid a smile behind his hand as Tony turned his full attention to Steve, eyeing him from head to toe. Poor kid. Tony could be a bit overwhelming.

“Uh, do you want the one for Tony or for Steve?” Steve was pointing at the cups, one labeled STEVE and one labeled TONI.

That was good. Rhodey looked up to the barista, trying his best to stifle a laugh behind the espresso machine, and sent him a wink. 

“Yep, that’s you, man,” Rhodey said, clutching his stomach as he laughed.

“I would very much like Toni-with-an-i, thank you, _Steve-not-with-an-i_ ,” Tony told the little guy. 

Oh boy. Poor kid. Tony was pulling out all his charm for this one. At least until Steve tried to hand him the cup, at which Tony shrank back slightly. “You can just put that there, thanks.”

“He has a thing about being handed things,” Rhodey explained with an exaggerated eyeroll. It was one of Tony’s odder quirks, and though Rhodey could understand where it came from – he had seen some of the things strangers tried to give Tony (besides lots of phone numbers and business cards, a disturbing number of people had also tried to give him their underwear, not always unworn) – he still never let an opportunity to tease his friend about it slip.

“It’s a valid concern,” Tony said before switching back into flirt mode. “Wouldn’t mind if you handed me your number, though, _Steve-not-with-an-i_.”

“Oh boy,” Rhodey muttered. Looks like their lunch plans just got canceled.

***

“Well, that very much depends on the context ...”

“I don’t believe it,” Bucky muttered to himself as he watched Steve pull out his sketchpad - the one he never let _anyone_ else touch and certainly never sullied by writing in it - scribble his number on it, tear the page out (seriously what even was this Steve doppelganger?!), hand it to Tony, and then waltz out of the coffee shop with his new acquaintance without so much as a backward glance at Bucky. 

His gaze met that of the barista, who was watching the scene play out from behind the espresso machine. The incredibly sexy barista, Bucky noted.

Bucky shrugged and shook his head. “Can’t take him anywhere. One cute guy crosses his path, and it’s like he just completely forgets I’m even here.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” the barista – Sam, his name tag read – said with a warm smile, “I think Tony picked the wrong guy. Me, I’d have gone for Steve’s friend.” 

Sam turned his attention back to the drink he was making, and it took Bucky’s brain a moment to catch up.

“Wait, you mean– ?” Bucky pointed to himself.

Sam looked up, smiled, set the drink on the counter – “double soy latte for Melissa” – then gave Bucky a look that said “how ‘bout it?” “I’ve got a break coming up in a few minutes. I can probably sneak you a piece of lemon bread – if you like that sort of thing.”

Bucky stood up a little straighter, a smile spreading over his face. Steve had been complaining earlier about how crummy this day had been, but it wasn’t so bad, Bucky determined. “Oh yeah, I like that sort of thing.”


End file.
